The Final Battle
by teawithlucifer
Summary: I wasn't satisfied with the ending of Merlin so I rewrote it. I won't say that the story is completely unpredictable, cause it's not, but I promise a twist at the end. Basically, when Merlin comes into his powers he uses them to their full extent. Merlin whump Battle scenes character death and angst...
1. Chapter 1

**Well, I decided that I didn't like the ending to Merlin, so like any fan-fic writer, I wrote a new ending. Some spoilers for the last episode of season five, but its different too, so read at your own risk if you haven't seen the finale. Lots of magic reveal, Merlin-whump, and an ending you'll never guess. (well you might but..meh)**

Merlin stood in the crystal cave, scrying the armies at Camlan. He smiled at the ease with which he brushed aside the wards Morgana had placed around herself; reveling in his newfound powers. He frowned as he realized what Morgana was planning; a sneak attack at night with a force sent around to flank Arthur's army. The effects would be devastating and the battle would be over before it was even begun. A plan forming in his mind, Merlin did what only he, Emrys, could; he stopped time over the plains of Camlan. A spell of that size would have killed him before this night, hell normally it should have taken at least seven high priests or priestesses of the old religion to cast that spell, and he wasn't even tired. Grinning like a loon, Merlin gathered up his magic and cast a spell, "jumping" himself to a clearing just outside Camelot. Once there he let out a deep roar, calling Kilgarah in the dragon tongue. Moments later he was facing the great dragon. Merlin felt a twinge of remorse as the dragon landed heavily; he looked horrible and it was obvious that he was dying faster than he had previously told Merlin.

"My young Warlock. What is the meaning of this? Should you not be at Arthur's side protecting him?" Kilgarah peered at Merlin closely. "Something has changed about you young Warlock. What has happened?"

Merlin spoke quickly, describing all that had happened regarding Morgana, his magic, and the crystal cave. Then, taking a small breath to steady himself, he began to explain his plan to the great dragon. When he was finished he looked at Kilgarah questioningly. "Can you help me? Do you know the spell?"

"Yes, young Warlock, I know the spell. I warn you, though, changing fate, especially the fate of one such as Arthur, will have consequences. Are you sure that this is what you want?"

Nodding solemnly, Merlin replied, "I accept any and all consequences this will have. There can be nothing worse than a world without Arthur. In fact I think this is something I must do." Continuing in a strong, loud voice laced with magic, his eyes molten pools of gold, Merlin continued, "I solemnly swear upon the old religion, the earth and sky, and the magic that courses through me to accept the consequences of these actions. I, Merlin Emrys, vow to take upon my self the consequences that would befall any other due to my actions. So mote it be." When he had finished speaking, Merlin bowed to Kilgarah. "Thank you, old friend, for everything you've done for me. I wish that I could repay you somehow, for I owe you my life and that of Arthur many times over."

Kilgarah spent a long moment regarding his young Dragon Lord. He was not so old as to not realize the chance Merlin had for survival with his plan. He sighed and arched his neck over Merlin, blowing over him the spell he needed. That finished, he spoke, his voice filled with a deep sorrow and infinite warmth. "I see in you now something that has been too long hidden. Now it stands out, clear for the world to see. You have become a great man, young warlock, and I am proud to call you Dragon Lord. As for repayment for your life, there is no need. It is an honor to aid you, Merlin, just as it would be an honor to join you in this battle. I've not got long in this world and I can think of no better way to spend my remaining energy."

Knowing that Kilgarah would not be swayed Merlin simply nodded. "Thank you, old friend." He watched as Kilgarah took off into the night and then, bracing himself for the confrontation to come, "jumped" himself to the army at Camlan.

Time was still stopped at Camlan and Merlin left it that way. He knew that it would take Kilgarah nearly an hour to arrive and he wanted to give his friend sometime to travel before the battle began. Merlin took advantage of the time stop, walking through the camp spending a few precious moments with each of his friends, whispering small spells here and there to give his friends the best chance possible at surviving this battle. He made his way to the healer's tent, entering to find the Gaius in the middle of grinding herbs and Gwen preparing bandages. Merlin felt unexpected tears prick his eyes as he looked at the man who was like a father to him. Merlin knew what his actions would do to Gaius and, making a spur of the moment decision, conjured up a quill and piece of parchment. A few moments later he tucked the note in the inside pocket of the healer's robe and headed towards the king's pavilion.

He found Arthur standing in the middle of his tent, a hand pinching the bridge of his nose, obviously pacing. Merlin shook his head; the clotpole should be sleeping, gathering his strength for the battle. He spent a few more moments placing wards around the tent, ensuring that his plans wouldn't be disrupted, and then, standing right in front of Arthur, he started time again.

To say Arthur was shocked to find himself suddenly standing face to face with Merlin would be a serious understatement. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but he promptly shut it as he saw the look on Merlin's face. Something was different about his friend. There was an unfathomable strength about Merlin now, and his face was a mixture of determination and sorrow. Arthur was thunderstruck and suddenly he began to wonder just how much he knew about his manservant.

Merlin, for his part, took advantage of Arthur's momentary stupefaction; he turned to where Arthur's armor lay. He began strapping it on, using magic to buckle the pieces on and take all the weight from it as well. He was just buckling on Excalibur when Arthur found his voice.

"Merlin! What…How…" He spluttered, unsure where to start, before settling on the most obvious question at the moment. "What are you doing with my armor? And my sword?"

Merlin grinned at Arthur despite himself. "Only you would be enough of a dunderhead to completely ignore the fact that I practically just appeared out of thin air and worry about your armor." He chuckled, amazed. In a more serious tone he continued, "as to what I'm doing: I'm putting on your armor. I figured seeing as how you wouldn't be needing it, I could borrow it."

Arthur's brow furrowed, still too much in shock to comprehend everything Merlin had said, but he did catch one thing. " Why won't I be needing my armor, you idiot? In case you haven't noticed we're about to be in a battle! Gods, why are you such a…" He stopped as Merlin looked up and met Arthur's eyes with his own. Arthur felt a lump forming in his throat as he saw the incomprehensible sorrow in his friend's astonishingly blue orbs. He barely had time to register the soft "I'm so sorry, Arthur" before Merlin raised his hand and Arthur fell into darkness.

Merlin kept his hand raised, casting another spell to catch the sleeping king before he hit the ground and lower him gently into his bed. Once he was certain Arthur was sleeping soundly, Merlin closed his eyes and began casting the spell Kilgarah had given him. He felt his magic wash over his body and then recede, leaving his skin tingling. Opening his eyes, Merlin walked over to the mirror and admired the spell's handiwork. The reflection in the glass was not that of Merlin's gangly form and raven hair, but that of King Arthur himself. Merlin rolled his shoulders and stepped out of the pavilion, turning to the guard on duty as he did so.

"Rouse the army, Morgana is on the move. And send Sir Leon and Sir Gwaine to me as well."

The man hurried away and the camp flew into action. So it was that barely an hour later, Merlin found himself standing in the valley at Camlan with an army at his back and another right in front of him. He had sent Leon and Gwaine off down the sloping path at rear of the army with a force of men; they would be the ones to deal with Morgana's men who were sent to flank the army. Casting out his magical senses Merlin located Morgana and Mordred, both of who were skulking in the shadows at the rear of Morgana's army; he'd have to keep an eye on them. Sending his magic out a bit farther he found the clearing where Kilgarah had chosen to rest; he opened up a channel to the dragon's mind and sent: "It is time, old friend," before pulling his magic back in to himself. Merlin angled his body so that he could see the men behind him while still facing the mostly towards the enemy. He drew Excalibur, holding it aloft, and shouted "For the love of Camelot!" The army charged. The final battle had begun.


	2. Chapter 2

Slash. Parry. Thrust. That was the pattern his sword had seemed to follow for god-knows-how-long. Merlin was beginning to feel slightly fatigued; not only had he been cutting down attackers with his sword, but also he had been simultaneously lashing out with magic, either to help where Camelot's men were struggling or to counter one of Morgana's attacks. He lowered his sword, taking advantage of a lull in the fighting to take stock of the battle.

Everywhere he looked there were bodies on the ground; the dead lay next to those yet living, and all were covered in blood, sweat, and ash. There were fires still burning from where Kilgarah had flown, spewing fire upon the soldiers. He wasn't quite sure when it had happened, but the force led by Leon and Gwaine had defeated Morgana's flanking force. Then they had taken it upon themselves to continue along the path, finally ending up at the rear of Morgana's army where they promptly attacked, creating chaos and confusion among the mercenaries.

The fighting around him intensified causing Merlin to pause his observations and rejoin the fray. For a brief moment he found himself fighting next to Gwaine, who gave his a feral grin, before he was once again swept into the melee. Merlin continued to fight, noticing as he did that there were fewer and fewer men pressing against him. All at once it seemed that the fighting stopped and he looked around, his tired mind taking a moment to register the fact that, with the exception of a few minor skirmishes, the battle was over. He nearly fell to his knees with relief; it was over, Camelot and Arthur were safe. That was when he saw him. Striding towards him, his armor singed and his sword dripping blood, was Mordred.

There were no words exchanged between the two men; no curses or threats, only a single cold glare that held the promise of swift and brutal justice. Their swords clashed, again and again, neither man gaining the upper hand or wounding the other. They seemed to go on and on forever, hatred and betrayal coloring their faces and fueling their actions.

Merlin made the first mistake, stumbling over a corpse and losing his concentration for the briefest of moments. That brief moment was enough, and he felt Mordred's blade pierce his chest, sliding through the chainmail as if it were made of butter. At the touch of the blade, Merlin's magic recoiled, shrinking back from the dark magic that clung to the blade. Mordred withdrew his blade and Merlin sank to his knees as the strength suddenly left his legs. Distantly, as if they were a million miles apart, he heard Mordred begin to speak, about what he wasn't sure. Confident that he had struck a mortal blow, Mordred stepped closer to the kneeling king, letting his guard drop as he did so. That was his mistake. Acting almost of its own accord, Excalibur rose in Merlin's hand and plunged into the former knight's chest. It was a cleaner blow than Merlin had been dealt, piercing the boy through his heart with the tip protruding from his back. Mordred's expression changed to one of shock before he crumpled to the ground, dead. Merlin felt the world begin to tilt and darkness swirled over his vision.

He was jerked back to his senses by a deranged cackle. Unable to process what the sound was he tried, and failed, to open his eyes. He reached for his magic, relieved to feel it's familiar warmth spread throughout his body again, lending strength to his leaden limbs. Something hard nudged his side and a wave of pain rolled over him, almost sending him spiraling back into darkness. He tried to open his eyes again, this time succeeding, only to see Morgana standing over him with a triumphant smirk on her face.

As the witch began to rant about how the throne would finally be hers, Merlin's mind wandered and he wondered where all the knights were. Surely he hadn't separated himself that far from the bulk of the army had he? His thoughts then drifted to Kilgarah, who he hadn't seen since the last time he had flown over the enemy. Idly Merlin hoped he hadn't crash-landed among the fighting. He was pulled out of his reverie by the sudden silence; Morgana had stopped talking. Looking at her, Merlin realized why. She had her arms outstretched and her eyes were beginning to glow gold. Irritation coursed through Merlin, (why couldn't she just leave him be?) and his eyes flashed gold.

Several things happened at once; Morgana froze, unable to move, and Merlin struggled to his feet, reaching out a hand to catch Excalibur (when had he dropped that?) as it spiraled up from the ground. He looked sadly at the woman who was, at one time, his friend. Her eyes held a mixture of fear and hatred; her face was a mask of confusion.

"That's impossible! This can't be happening; Arthur doesn't have magic. He can't have it, he just can't." Morgana was babbling, shocked at this sudden turn of events. "Nobody has magic strong enough to bind me; I'm a high priestess!"

Merlin eyed her coolly, before replying, "There is one who has the power to do so."

"Emrys is dead, I made sure of that. Even if he were still alive, it isn't you Arthur Pendragon. No, it was your precious serving boy; practicing magic under your nose all those years and you never knew." Morgana now had a triumphant look on her face, expecting the news of his best friend's betrayal to crush him.

"I'm not Arthur," Merlin said, his face and voice devoid of all emotion. "I am Emrys."

Morgana snarled and began to detail all the things that she would do to Arthur, Gwen, and the knights once she broke free. Her ranting stopped abruptly, and she looked down with shock at the sword buried in her chest. Eyes wide with shock, Morgana slowly slid off the sword and fell to the ground in a heap.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin just stood there, swaying slightly as he stared blankly at the body at his feet. He had thought that when this moment came he would feel, relief, anger, satisfaction, something. He felt nothing, thought nothing; he was empty, all his anger towards Morgana gone. He would have gone on standing there forever, allowing the cold heaviness to seep into his limbs, had he not heard a noise behind him. He wished the battle would just be over as he spun to face the noise, sword at the ready. To his relief it was not the enemy he saw coming towards him, but Leon, Percival, and Gwaine.

"Sire…" began Leon, only to stop as he took in the scene surrounding Merlin, his eyes growing wide. The looks of astonishment on the knights' faces turned to shock and concern as they took in their friend's appearance. The King's face was unnaturally pale and covered with a sheen of sweat, his hands were shaking and he was swaying slightly, but the most alarming thing was the tear in his armor from which blood was seeping. All at once the knights began speaking.

"Sire, are you ok?"

"What happened here?"

"The battle is over, Sire, we won."

"Princess!" This last shout was from Gwaine as Merlin (who still appeared to Arthur) started to fall to his knees. Rushing forward, Gwaine caught him before he hit the ground and pulled his arm over his shoulder, supporting him. Leon took his other side and they started to move back towards the camp.

"Wait," Merlin rasped, his throat dry all of the sudden. " I need to see the dragon, where is it?" Noticing that Leon was about to argue with him, he continued, "Please, Leon, I must. Without his help we would have been lost." Leon nodded tersely, the look on his face making it evident that he wasn't happy with this course of action, not when the king was so obviously wounded. After gaining Leon's ascent, Merlin turned to Percival.

"Percival, go to the royal pavilion. Wake the man inside and bring him to us with all haste."

Percival shot him a bewildered look, but took off at a jog all the same. As the three men rounded the final bend in the valley, Merlin stopped abruptly, staring at the scene before him. In the background the camp could be seen, alive with activity as those who were relatively uninjured helped those who weren't as lucky to the healer's tents. But there, amidst the carnage and blood in the entry to the valley was a sight that brought tears to Merlin's eyes. Kilgarah lay on the field, his wings folded against his body and his head resting on the ground; around him stood a small ring of knights, their weapons at ready, in a defensive stance. Instantly Merlin was filled with anger. How could these knights of Camelot believe the dragon was a threat to them when he had just taken out over a third of the enemy? An instant later Merlin realized that the knights weren't facing towards the dragon, but away from him; they weren't attacking, but protecting Kilgarah. Merlin realized that Leon and Gwaine were staring at him with concern, though neither one commented on the tears streaking down his face. He began moving once more.

It seemed to take forever to reach the dragon, mainly because Gwaine and Leon were supporting nearly all of Merlin's weight, but when they did Merlin stepped forward on his own, ignoring the other men's protests. He slowly moved until he was next to the dragon's head. Once there he sank down, leaning back against one of Kilgarah's legs so that he was facing the giant head. Wearily one great, golden eye opened up to peer at him. Merlin felt the dragon's magic reaching weakly for him and he opened his mind to it.

"I have given all my energy; I trust the battle is over and your plan was a success, young warlock?"

"The battle is won; we could not have done it without your help, Kilgarah. Morgana and Mordred are dead and Arthur is safe. It is nearly finished now."

"Then I am proud to have been of service. I sense that I'm not long for this world now, just as I sense you have not come out the fray unscathed. "

"You have done so much for me, Kilgarah, that I will never be able to repay your for. I wish there was something I could do for you."

"Remember your promise, Emrys." The great dragon's voice was fading now. "Remember it, for I fear destiny has not yet finished with you."

Merlin could feel the tears streaking down his face unimpeded, but he didn't care. Reaching out he laid a hand on the dragon's head and let his magic flow through them both. "I shall remember it. Now rest; go and be at peace, my old friend." Merlin felt one last wave of peace and gratitude emanate from his friend before the dragon gave a huge shudder and let his eyes slide closed. Around him the knights all bowed their heads in respect and stepped back, allowing Merlin to sit in silence. It was only a few moments later when he heard confused and angry mutters of "sorcery" and "what kind of trick is this" and he raised his head to see Percival striding towards them follow by an irate looking King Arthur. Leon hesitated between Merlin and Arthur, his sword drawn, unsure which was the real king. Arthur strode straight past him to where Merlin slumped.

"Who are you? What kind of sorcery is this?"

Despite himself, Merlin felt his anger rise; he understood how confused Arthur may be, but really? He had obviously helped in the battle and, sorcerer or not, a little gratitude would be nice. "I, King Arthur, am the man who is responsible for winning this battle, saving your life and Camelot, and killing Morgana and Mordred. That is who I am."

"How do I know what you say is true," asked Arthur?

Before Merlin could answer, Leon stepped forward. "It's true, sire. He led the army into battle, and fought both Mordred and Morgana. They're both dead, we saw the bodies."

Now Arthur looked confused. "Why would you aid us? You're obviously a sorcerer and Camelot is not known for their kindness towards your kind."

Merlin shook his head. " I've told you before, you prat. I am happy to serve you 'til the day I die. And that's what I did; I had to make sure you would survive and this was the only way to do it."

"Merlin?" Arthur was astonished, suddenly recalling seeing the scrawny manservant appear out of thin air in the middle of his tent. He watched as the other man nodded, his eyes flashing gold. A golden mist appeared around him for a moment, and when it cleared it was Merlin's familiar face staring back at him.

Arthur just stood there gaping at him. Merlin shifted uncomfortably, partly from the incredulous gazes fixed upon him by Arthur and the Knights, and partly because of Arthur's armor. It was within his power to remedy at least one of these things and he promptly did so. His eyes flashed again and Arthur's armor vanished from his body, reappearing on the King, completely mended and polished. This seemed to have shocked the king out of his stupor and he crossed his arms.

"What was that for?"

"What was what for?" Arthur gestured at the armor. "Oh, it was uncomfortable. Honestly, I don't know how you can stand to wear that all the time. It's like carrying a blacksmith's shop on your back; it's hotter than Cook's ovens, and it always clinks." Merlin knew he was rambling, but between the stress of the past few days, blood loss, and pain he couldn't seem to focus enough to stop. Arthur took care of that for him.

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Shut up." The king paused, gathering his thoughts. "If you're a sorcerer th-"

"Warlock, actually."

"A what? Is there even a difference?"  
"I'm a warlock, not a sorcerer. A sorcerer studies magic; I was born with it. Had absolutely no choice in the matter; it drove mum bonkers cause every time I'd get upset items would start flying around the house."

Arthur ran his hand through his hair. "Why? Why come to Camelot? You would have been executed immediately if my father had ever found out."

"I know that." Merlin sounded extremely weary. "There were many times when I almost did get executed. Thankfully on those occasions your overwhelming conviction that I am nothing more than a bumbling idiot actually came in handy. As to why I came; I didn't have a choice in the matter it was destiny." When Arthur gave him a look as if to say, "what kind of destiny could you have" Merlin just laughed wryly and asked, "Ever heard the name Emrys?"

"Emrys, as in the Druid story Emrys?" Four pairs of eyes stared at Leon with incredulity. "What," he said shifting nervously, "my nurse used to tell me stories of the fabled Emrys, a man so powerful he was said to be the embodiment of magic itself. They say that Emrys is loyal only to the Once and Future King and that one day he would defeat a great darkness, bringing peace and magic to the lands, but at a terrible price."

Merlin, Gwaine, and Percival were still staring at Leon with varying degrees of shock and impression on their faces. Arthur, however, had turned back to Merlin; something Leon had said had brought forth a memory. _You are the Once and Future King, Arthur, and one day you will unite the lands of Albion and usher in a golden age of peace and prosperity. _Those were the words Merlin had spoken to him all those years ago. Wanting Merlin to confirm what he already suspected he asked, "So what does all this Emrys business have to do with you?"

"I am Emrys, Arthur, a creature of magic. I am, and always will be, loyal to the Once and Future King, you, Arthur Pendragon."


	4. Chapter 4

"Right, well, I don't know about you lot, but I would be a lot more comfortable finishing this discussion back at camp, preferably with some food and a tankard of ale." Gwaine started moving towards the camp, everyone except Merlin following him.

For his part, Merlin could barely make it to his feet, much less walk. His first attempt to walk sent him crashing back to the earth and drawing a small cry from his lips. The knight all heard the sound and turned as one to see the man struggling back onto his feet. Arthur was already striding back towards the man, but he broke out into a jog when Merlin swayed where he stood, his face loosing what little color it had. The king reached him just as his eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp. Arthur caught him and lowered him the rest of the way to the ground gently. He shook his friend with one hand while checking his pulse with the other. A sigh of relief left his lips as he felt a pulse, erratic but still present. That sighed died on his lips, however, when he looked down and saw the dark crimson that soaked through Merlin's shirt. With shaking hands he pushed the shirt up, revealing Merlin's scarred chest and the deep wound present there, just below his heart. Arthur closed his eyes, hearing the horrified gasps of his knights as they saw the wound. They had all been through enough battles to know that a wound such as this one was usually fatal unless treated immediately. Arthur wasn't sure when Merlin had received this wound, but judging by the gradually slowing trickle of blood coming from the wound it had to have been some time ago. He needed to get help fast.

Arthur scooped the gangly man up into his arms, frowning slightly at just how light Merlin was. Without another word he strode towards the healer's tent, the knights trailing behind him. He walked straight to the far side of the tent, laying the unconscious warlock on an empty bed that was relatively secluded. While he had done this Elyan had grabbed Gaius, quickly explaining what had happened. By the time the old man had forced his way through all of the knights, Arthur, and a sobbing Gwen, Merlin was starting to stir. When his eyes opened they focused on the elderly healer.

"Gaius?" He rasped and then smiled appreciatively as the man held a cup of water to his lips. Working quickly, Gaius rolled up his wards shirt, a look of despair crossing his face as he saw the wound. After cleaning it the best he could Gaius probed it gently with a finger, drawing a pained gasp from Merlin's lips.

"Merlin, there's still a shard of the blade still in the wound."

"I know, I can feel it in there."

"I can try to remove it…" The healer left the rest unsaid. Merlin had been his apprentice long enough to know that this wound was most likely fatal with the shard removed and definitely so with the shard left in the wound.

"Leave it, Gaius. It will make little difference. The blade was forged with dark magic and it's doing its job quite well." He gave Gaius a pained smile, deeply wishing that there were something he could do to ease the grief in the older man's eyes. Gaius reached out and squeezed his shoulder affectionately. Merlin's eyes flickered past Gaius and he said, "Gaius, you should see to your other patients…I'm not going anywhere at the moment and Arthur and I need to talk." Gaius nodded his understanding and walked away slowly, looking as if he carried a great weight upon his shoulders.

After a few moments of silence, Merlin turned his attention to Arthur. The king's face was a mixture of different emotions ranging from disbelief to downright anger and something else, stronger than the others, that Merlin couldn't quite place. "Arthur, I can explain everything…I.."

"And why should I trust a word out of your mouth, sorcerer? The past five years have been nothing but a lie. I thought you were my friend, my brother even and this…this is how you repay that," snarled Arthur.

Merlin felt his ire rising at his friend's anger. "I'M A WARLOCK! If you ever listened instead of being a prat you would know that. Everything I've ever done has been for Camelot, for you, Arthur. I would give my life for you; I have done so many times in the past." Merlin paused, gasping for breath. It was getting harder and harder to fight the lethargy that was stealing over his body, but he had to make Arthur understand. "You are the Once and Future King. One day you shall unite the land of Albion and bring magic back to the land. It is my destiny to protect you, and that is all I've ever done; protect you, Arthur. Hell, I've changed destiny so that you could survive and become the king I know you will be."

Arthur seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then turned and stomped angrily from the tent. Gwaine made to follow him, ready to knock some sense into the pig-headed fool, but Merlin stopped him with a weak gesture.

"Don't, Gwaine. Let him think in privacy. He speaks from fear, not anger."

"Fear? The princess has nothing to fear, not as long as you're here to protect him. He should know that."

"He is scared that all he's ever learned could be wrong. It's a lot to take in, and he needs time."

"Aye, well if he thinks that I'll let him lay one finger on you, after everything you've done, he'll be in for one big surprise. Maybe I need to go talk some sense into him." Gwaine made to follow the King once more, but Merlin stopped him again.

"No. He will not harm me; he'll make the right decision, he always does." Merlin's voice was strained, he was fading fast and he knew it. Seeing the turmoil on his friends face he continued in a soft voice: "Please, Gwaine don't….don't leave me here alone, not now. Please."

Whether it was the voice or the plea itself that caught Gwaine's attention he wasn't sure, but he was sure that right now, Merlin needed him more than the princess. He looked at his friend, marveling at the faith the man showed in his king, despite the hurt that he obviously felt at the man's mistrust. Gwaine felt all his anger at the king fade as he took in Merlin's appearance. He was pale and covered in sweat; his breathing was ragged and there was blood seeping through the bandage on his chest again. Perhaps the most frightening thing about seeing his friend like this was the intense mixture of fear and resignation in the man's eyes. Merlin was dying and he knew it; there was no way that Gwaine could leave him now. He knelt down at his friend's side and clasped his hand, returning the shaky smile that Merlin flashed him. Dimly he was aware that the other knights had stepped forward now, sensing their friend's need, to let him know that he was not alone, not now and not ever.

Ever so slowly Merlin's eyes began to drift closed and each breath came less often, until eventually they came no more. The moment that happened, Gwaine knew his friend was gone. Even still, he waited for what seemed like hours for Merlin to draw one more shaky breath; he couldn't be dead. This was Merlin; he was always ok, always. Gwaine raised a shaking hand and brushed back the unruly mop of black hair from the pale face, noting as he did so that his friend wore a small, peaceful smile. Dimly he heard someone calling for Gaius, and then his hands were being pushed out of the way by the healer. He watched, detached, as Gaius felt for a pulse and then as his face crumpled when he felt none. He heard the sorrowful cries of the others, the sobs of the queen, and Leon's statement that he would inform the king. Gwaine didn't care; he couldn't because it didn't matter anymore. Merlin, his best friend, was gone and he wasn't coming back, ever.

Arthur strode out of the tent, furious at this new betrayal by the man he considered a brother. What had he ever done in his life to earn such disloyalty; first Morgana, then Mordred, and now Merlin? He kneaded his eyes with the heels of his palm; his thoughts were chaotic. There was one voice in his head repeating all the lessons his father had ever taught him of magic; the other spoke in a calming voice, reminding him of the druids and that blue sphere in the caverns so long ago.

"Magic is evil," the voice (it sounded oddly like his father) in his head whispered; "those who practice magic are evil… Merlin is evil."

But no, he could not believe that; would not believe it. Every fiber of his being rebelled against the idea that Merlin, kind, caring, loyal Merlin was evil. The man didn't have an evil bone in his body; for god sakes, he abhorred hunting because it killed innocent animals for fun. The voice advocating the goodness of magic was drowning out his father's voice in his mind.

"Magic," it pointed out, "is like a tool. It is neither good nor bad, it just is. Whether it is used for good or evil is up to the wielder; just as a sword can be used to slaughter innocents or defend a country against a tyrant so magic can be used to torture or protect."

With that statement, Arthur knew that Merlin had spoken the truth. Who knows what he had done for Camelot and Arthur over the years? What he did know, however, is that Merlin had save Camelot today. As that dawned on him another realization hit him; Merlin was wounded, fatally so perhaps. Dread pooled in his stomach and Arthur turned to head back into the healer's tent, his only thought to tell Merlin that he understood now, that he forgave him for everything. More so than the desire to make things ok between them, he needed to tell Merlin thank you, for everything. As he made his way back towards the tent he saw Leon striding purposefully towards him. He held his hands up in supplication towards the knight, the half formed assurances that he had come to his senses dying on his lips when he saw Leon's red eyes and sorrowful expression.

"No." That was all he said, all he could think as fear twisted his insides and grief and denial warred in his mind. Suddenly he was running, sprinting through the tent to where his friend lay. The other knights (with the exception of Gwaine) moved to the side to allow him access to Merlin. His whole being went numb; he felt as if something were missing, like his other half was gone. Merlin looked so small and peaceful; Arthur could almost imagine that he was sleeping and any second now those marvelous blue orbs would be looking back at him. But they wouldn't open, never again; never again would Merlin wake him at the crack of dawn or call him a prat or offer surprisingly sage advice. Merlin was dead, and Arthur felt the weight of his despair mingling with his guilt, threatening to crush him. He had failed the man; had let him die thinking that Arthur hated him. There were tears flowing unchecked down his cheeks now, but he didn't care. Let them see me cry, he thought bitterly, let them think me weak. He had failed his best friend, his brother, when he had needed him both. Arthur should have been here at his side in his final moments; he should have been there to tell him that it was all going to be ok, that he was forgiven. He would never get to tell Merlin that, never tell him Thank you for everything he's done or even find out everything he'd done for Camelot. Arthur hated himself, for not being strong enough, for not finding a way to save him, for living while Merlin had died.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Gwen spoke, breaking the silence that surrounded their grief. "We'll… we'll have to give him a proper fun…. A proper funeral. He deserves that."

The others nodded their agreement, all of them turning their gazes on Arthur who had yet to speak a word, where he knelt by Merlin's body, a look of total shock on his face. Before anybody could break him from his reverie Gaius spoke up.

"If it's at all possible, I think that… I think that he would like to be put to rest at the lake of Avalon."

Arthur looked up at the old man. "Why there?" Seeing the looks on the others' faces he added, "what meaning does…did the Lake of Avalon hold for Merlin?"

"Other than the fact that it is a place of pure magic, I'm not sure, though he visits…visited there often." Gaius held up a piece of parchment. "This was tucked in my pocket. It's from Merlin. He must have known that he was going to…. going to die. It was one of his final requests that he be laid to rest at Avalon." At a gesture from the king, Gaius handed the letter over.

Gwaine looked thoughtful. "He once mentioned that he had someone very dear to him on the shores of Avalon. I never put much thought into it, but I'm certain that he must have put someone to rest there.

Handing the letter back to Gaius, Arthur stood, looking determined. "Knights, Gwen, get cleaned up and take some rest. Tomorrow morning we leave for the Lake of Avalon."

It was a solemn group that set out the following morning, each member lost in thought, reminiscing on memories they had of Merlin. Nobody wanted to look at the still white bundle lashed to one of the spare horses. They were several hours into the journey when Gwaine, completely sober for once, decided he couldn't stand the silence any longer. He sighed, remembering how Merlin would fill these tedious journeys with mindless chatter and jokes. " He wouldn't have wanted this."

"What? Did you say something, Gwaine?"

Gwaine looked up from the back of his horses' neck; he hadn't realized he had spoken aloud. He cleared his throat and repeated himself a little louder. "He wouldn't have wanted this; us, I mean, moping around all depressed."

There was a moment of deep silence before anyone spoke again.

"Gwaine's right," Gwen admitted. "Merlin was always so happy; he wouldn't want us to mourn him, but remember the good times we had with him." A smile lit her face for the first time in days. "I remember the first time we met. Merlin was in the stocks and he was still smiling; I remember how he joked with me and then encouraged the young children to go and bring back more vegetables to throw at him so he wasn't bored." At her anecdote all the knights let out a chuckle. Then Gaius spoke up, (of course Gaius went with them) telling about some of the shenanigans that Merlin had gotten into over the years. The rest of the journey passed by with each member of the group taking turns recalling their fondest memories of their friend. Though still sorrowful, their spirits had lifted just a bit by the time they reached the lake.

The waters were calm and clear and the surrounding land was covered in wild flowers and lush vegetation. It was beautiful, and there on the shore, as if it knew their purpose there, rested a small, wooden boat. Somber once more, the group set to work, gathering brush and other tinder to place in the bottom of the boat. While the knights did this, Gwen and Gaius gathered sweet smelling herbs and flowers to bedeck the boat. When the preparations were all made, Arthur gently took the body from the horse and unwrapped the cloth that was around it. Then, as if he carried something extremely precious and fragile, he carried the body and set it in the boat atop the bed of flowers. That task completed, he stepped back and watched as Gaius and Gwen lovingly rearranged his limbs, straightened his clothing, and placed more flowers and herbs around him.

All of them clustered around the boat as Arthur prepared to say the final farewell. Before he could utter a word, however, Percival gasped and pointed to the lake. Just off shore the water began to churn and from them rose a woman. She walked towards the boat, and Gwaine noted with a detached interest that she was beautiful. Slowly she knelt down beside the boat and, to the shock of every one but Gaius who had begun to suspect who this was, she gently stroked Merlin's face and placed a kiss on his brow. There were tears streaming down her face as she began to speak.

"Oh my brave, sweet Merlin what have you done? You've succeeded, saving countless lives, but at what cost? The price you've paid is so high already and yet, from you destiny demands even greater recompense for your actions. I am so, so sorry, my love. I have no choice in this matter; I must do this. I'm so sorry for all that is to come." She placed one last kiss upon Merlin's lips then raised her hand as her eyes turned a molten gold. Everybody felt the wave of power that emanated from her as she spoke a string of foreign words, then, without another word, she vanished.

Arthur looked to Gaius. "Any idea what that was about? Who was that woman?"  
"I believe, Arthur, that that was the Lady of the Lake; Freya."

Gwaine gasped in disbelief, his eyes going wide. "Freya? Freya, as in the one woman that Merlin ever loved? That Freya? He told me of her one night when I was drunk, probably thinking that I'd forget by the morning."

"What did she do I wonder…" Arthur's voice trailed off as he stared at Merlin's body. He could have sworn he had seen the chest rise and fall. It must have been his imagination, there couldn't be more color in Merlin's face, could there? Hoping against all hope, Arthur stepped forward and placed shaking fingers on Merlin's neck. His knees almost gave way when he felt the pulse beating there; they did give way when Merlin let out a pained moan. Everybody just stood there in shock, not quite believing the turn of events.

Merlin started to thrash about, groaning. In an instant Gaius was at his side, along with Arthur and Gwaine, directing them to brace his legs and torso so he didn't do himself damage as Gaius held his head calling to him.

"Hush, Merlin. Everything's going to be ok. We're here, we've got you; everything will be fine. Calm yourself, Merlin. Just open your eyes and come back to us."

Arthur spoke up, desperate for his friend to be ok, to be alive. "Merlin, you lazy idiot, don't you ever do as you're told? Just come back to us, please, just follow this one order…don't be dead. You hear me? Don't be dead, Merlin. Open your eyes, come on, open your eyes, please."

Merlin's thrashing stopped and he went still. Arthur's heart dropped into his stomach as he looked at his friend, hoping. He couldn't be dead, that just so…wasn't Merlin. Then, while all waited with bated breath, something happened that they had thought to never see again; Merlin opened his eyes.

_ The darkness was so peaceful; it beckoned to him and Merlin succumbed to its gentle embrace. He knew that he was dead and he was a bit disappointed; he had expected to be reunited with his father and Freya. Where was he? Maybe Uther had been right all along, he was an evil magic user and he had gone to hell. This didn't feel like hell, I've been through worse while I was alive. The darkness was unending and Merlin had no idea how long he just floated there, thinking. _

_A familiar voice echoed through the darkness and Merlin's heart leapt into his throat. It was Freya, but where was she? Why did she sound so sad? So what he was dead? They could be together again. __**"I am so, so sorry, my love. I have no choice in this matter; I must do this. I'm so sorry for all that is to come" **__Sorry? Why was she sorry? What was to come? Merlin felt a wave of pure energy wash over him and suddenly he wasn't in darkness anymore; no this was much, much worse. _

_Images flashed before him, showing him people and places, some familiar to him and some foreign and strange. He saw a land of rolling metal boxes and towering building made of glass. He saw these cities burning and children crying. He caught glimpses of his friends throughout the scenes, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, Gwen, but never Arthur, not until the very end of the images. The most frightening thing about these images was Merlin himself. He was present in every scene; always he remained the same, never aging, only his clothing changing. He watched as the images seemed to change and whirl with him at their center, eyes glowing golden. He watched as those he loved faded along with Camelot; disappearing into ash and rubble and yet he remained. _

_As quickly as it began it was over and darkness returned. This was different, though. He felt as if he were weighed down by a thousand stones and he struggled to rise through the weight. As he began to despair he heard a voice, calling to him; it almost sounded like Arthur. What if he was in trouble? Merlin struggled through the darkness, aware now that he was actually in his body. Using all of his will power Merlin struggled the last little distance. He opened his eyes._

**Mwahahahaha! I promise that there will be an epilogue and possibly as sequel/reincarnation fic. **


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